Chapter 2: First Romantic Event

“Thank you.”

“I suppose even the gallant Lord Cecil has these moments. I feel like we might actually be quite similar,” said Lean.

“O-oh really?”

“………”

So cold I think I’m going to get frostbite! Help!

Oscar stared at Cecil so hard he could bore a hole right through him.

Wh-what’s his problem?! Is this like, “Don’t get close to my Lean—who do you think you are?” I’m not going to! I’m getting out of here!

“Ah, I’ll be heading back now. Very sorry for interr—”

“Would you like to join us for a chat? I’d actually love to get to know you better. Wouldn’t you, Prince Oscar?”

“…I suppose.”

Listen to that! Like hell he wants to!

“I-I’ll have to take you up on that another time. Good-bye!” Cecilia blabbed, fleeing the scene and the cold gaze of the frosty tundra.

 

After Cecil left, the pair exchanged glances.

“He’s gone. I wanted to talk to him more, though…,” said Lean.

“Mmm. Besides that, he looks kind of familiar…,” Oscar mused, falling into thought as he stroked his chin.

Then the kitten in Lean’s arms gave a cute meow. It jumped down, which sent the handkerchief that was wrapped around its foot fluttering into the air.

“I think Lord Cecil brought this cat over. Hmm? It looks like it’s hurt…,” noted Lean.

“Guess he used a handkerchief to give it some first aid. It’ll come right off if we leave it, so we should put a proper bandage on and disinfect the wound… Hang on. I’ve seen this handkerchief…,” Oscar said, picking it up and furrowing his brow. He recognized it from somewhere.

“Who the hell is that guy…?”

A look of loathing on his face, Oscar glowered in the direction Cecil had fled.

When he’d been young, Oscar had not acted like a regular child at all.

It was drilled into him from the moment he was born that someday, he would bear the weight of the nation, so he thought of the people in his life as tools to help run the country. With such unthinkable pressure on his tiny shoulders, he grew up not relying on anyone for comfort and affection.

He never begged or asked the adults around him for anything—not his mother, the queen, nor the nanny who raised him. All he did was give orders.

Behaving like a little grown-up led the adults around him to decide he was steady and reliable, but they didn’t hesitate to label him “impertinent” as well.

A high-handed, impertinent brat.

That described Oscar as a child.

And that was how he grew up in the royal palace, in persistent solitude.

After all, he was so put together in his attitude that his mother and nanny never interfered, nor did anyone try to get close to this authoritative, high-handed little boy. He also had no idea himself what he could be doing wrong, so year after year, he only grew lonelier.

Right around then, at the umpteenth society ball he’d gone to in his life, he met her. Cecilia Sylvie, the daughter of a duke. Oscar was six years old, and Cecilia was five.

She was the daughter of Duke Sylvie and very pretty, but rumor had it she was a selfish little girl whose parents spoiled her rotten. Oscar had only been born six months before her, so their ages were similar, and she was also of noble rank. On account of that, many people had good reason to whisper that she might become Oscar’s fiancée.

 

While the adults were talking, she was focusing her undivided attention on her meal.

Freshwater fish à la poêle. Chicken confit. Minced pork. Colorful vegetable terrine. Braised beef. Grilled goat. Ratatouille, salad, soup…

Despite the fact that it was a stand-up meal served from a buffet, Cecilia paid that no mind, selecting one dish after another and ravenously devouring them at a table in the corner, as though she’d been starved for days.

True to her aristocratic upbringing, however, her table manners were impeccable and refined.

A society ball was no place to enjoy a meal; it was where nobles deepened friendships and exchanged information. So why, then, was she eschewing all conversation in favor of concentrating intensely on her food?

Since this intrigued him, he spoke to her. “Hey.”

“Mmf?” she asked, fork in hand, as she turned around.

She looked so ridiculous that he felt his normally immovable facial muscles twitch.

Swallowing her mouthful of food, she cocked her head at him. “What is it?”

“What are you doing?”

“Eating, of course.”

“I can tell that by looking at you. I’m asking you why you’re doing it so greedily,” he added, finally asking the question on his mind.

A shadow passed over her face as she looked down at her plate. “I’m stress eating.”

“Stress eating?”

“I’ve been having a lot of dreams where I die lately. I know they’re just dreams, and that’s what I want to believe they are, but they just feel so real…” She sighed, her face somewhat drained of color. Then she went on, as if talking to herself, “I mean, if they’re true, then I guess my life is over, and I’m just barreling toward the end of it. I don’t want to accept that, but there’s so many clear signs pointing to it being the truth, so sooner or later I need to steel myself for the worst. But I can’t help raging inside my head against this fate…”

“I have no idea what you’re saying.”

“To put it simply, I might have a very bleak future, so I’m stress eating.”

“Hey. I thought you were talking about bad dreams.”

“I wish it was just bad dreams.”

As they talked, he found he was totally losing track of the conversation. Paying him no heed, Cecilia gave him a bright smile. “But ’cause I get to eat all this yummy food, I’ve managed to distract myself quite a bit! This terrine was fantastic!”

“It was that good?”

“Yes! Oh, have you not tried it yet?”

“No, but…”

“That’s a huge waste! The royal family is putting on this party, so we can take this chance to drink and eat to our heart’s content! It’s all free! All this delicious food for free!”

“…Do they not feed you at the duke’s estate?”

A duke’s daughter talking like money was any sort of concern made him worry that she was getting mistreated or something. But she shook her head with a smile. “Oh, of course they do. But since this is our chance to taste so much wonderful food without paying anything, there’s no reason not to take advantage of it! Personally speaking, it’d be just perfect if there were instant ramen here, too, but this world doesn’t have any, so I guess this is the best I’ll get.”

“Instant…ramen?” he repeated.

Cecilia gasped after a beat, the blood suddenly draining from her face. “Forget what I just said.”

While he didn’t really understand the “instant ramen” and the “this world doesn’t have any” parts, neither did he get the impression she was a spoiled little girl from speaking to her. Instead, she seemed cheerful and innocent.

“Anyway, you’d be missing out not munching on any of this, so… Here. Try this,” she encouraged, bringing a fork to his mouth out of nowhere.

“What?” He gasped, flummoxed. On the fork was a bite of the terrine she had just been raving about. Did she want him to eat off it?

Even his nanny had never babied Oscar like that. He turned red and took a step back. “Y-you’re being very rude! I’m—”

“But it’s good! Here.”

“Mmmf…”

She stuck it in his mouth anyway. Feeling it would be improper to spit it out, he chewed and swallowed. Though it wasn’t any different from the food he ate normally, the terrine was indeed delicious. But…

“It’s really good, right?” she implored, smiling at him, and he felt his face soften.

Cecilia wasn’t aware that Oscar was the crown prince. She probably thought he was some nobleman’s young son, hence why she was taking such liberties with him. But getting treated with such affection made warmth bubble up in his chest.

“I guess,” he admitted, his face flushing at her carefree smile. For someone who’d never had anyone he could call a friend, interacting with Cecilia was tantamount to his first experience playing with another child.

“Hee-hee,” she giggled.

“What is it?”

“You got some sauce on you,” she noted, using a handkerchief to wipe away the sauce on his cheek. “So careless. Kind of reminds me of Gil.”

“You’re the one who put it there.” He balked, snatching the handkerchief from her and wiping it away himself.

She was still grinning at him. He asked, “What? Do I still have something on my face?”

“No. I was just a little worried about you because you seemed sort of sick, but I’m glad to see that your spirits have recovered. I knew yummy things could make us feel better!”

“…You thought I looked sick this whole time?”

“Yes. You were making this face like you were trying to pretend you didn’t have a stomachache. At first, it was a bit scary.”

“Trying to pretend I didn’t have a stomachache…,” he repeated. He hadn’t really been frowning, just interacting normally with her. Now that she’d told him that he’d seemed as though he’d been bearing through a stomachache, he felt that he’d somehow lost some face.

“The face you’re making now isn’t scary at all. I quite like it,” she added.

As he turned the word like around in his mind, he felt himself suddenly grow hot all over. Finding himself unable to look at her face, he dropped his gaze to the handkerchief she’d lent him. A clumsy-looking clover was stitched onto it.

“What is this?” he asked.

“Ah-ha-ha.” She giggled. “I embroidered that. It was my first time, so I messed it up.”

“…You’re not very good.”

“Guh…”

“But if you consider that there’s room for growth, it’s not that bad,” Oscar encouraged, the gentle tone of his voice surprising even himself.

Cecilia’s eyes rounded in shock. “Umm, about earlier—”

“Prince Oscar! There you are!”

Just as he was about to make an excuse, the cabinet minister came looking for him. He jogged over, his round body bouncing like a ball.

“What is it?” asked Oscar.

“His Majesty is calling for you.”

“All right.”

“O-Oscar…?” asked Cecilia in a trembling voice. He turned to see that she had gone completely pale. Her lips were quivering, and her big round eyes were opened even wider. “You’re Oscar Abel Prosper?”

“Yes, and what of it?” he replied, nodding in assent as if to say, You finally figured it out.

Cecilia’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed on the spot, frothing at the mouth.

That had been the last time Oscar had ever seen her.

He’d gone to the Sylvie manor to return the handkerchief he’d ended up borrowing, but he was told she was too ill for company. He came back to the manor on pretense after pretense after that, but the reception was the same. After that, rumors spread that she was in poor health, and she stopped appearing at society events altogether.

 

Now, twelve years later…

His grasp tightened around the handkerchief that did not differ much at all from the one Cecilia had offered him back then.

The inexpertly stitched clover was proof enough.

“Why does he have this handkerchief…?” he growled, hatefully recalling the boy everyone called the prince of the school.

“Cecil Admina, I need to talk to you,” Oscar demanded, marching into the classroom first thing in the morning the day after his romantic event with Lean. Cecilia froze. Her classmates buzzed at the picture they made, the prince of the school juxtaposed against the actual heir to the nation.

“Wh-what is it?”

“It’s hard to discuss in the classroom. Come here at lunchtime,” he barked, slapping a note onto her desk. It jiggled with the impact. “I insist that you come. If you run away, I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

His eyes were as cold as ice as he glared down at her. In the face of that, all she could do was nod.

 

That lunchtime—

The meeting place written on the note was a reception room in the school, though it was not one that just anyone could use. It was a special one exclusively available to high-ranked members of nobility and their guests.

Since it was intended for socializing between nobles of high status, the room was quite spacious, with few partitions.

Seated on a sofa in the corner, Oscar showed Cecilia something. “Why do you have this handkerchief?”

“Handkerchief?” she repeated, looking down at what she’d tied around the cat’s leg the day before.

Pointing to the edge of it, Oscar’s voice took on a dangerous lilt as he asserted, “This is something I once borrowed from Cecilia.”

“What?”

“I’ll ask you one more time. Why do you have this?”

He was pointing to the embroidery, which consisted of a poorly stitched clover. This was the first she’d made when she was little.

I loaned this to Oscar…?

She desperately cast through her mind and managed to recall a memory from her childhood of a boy speaking to her.

“But if you consider that there’s room for growth, it’s not that bad.”

A red-haired, sassy little boy breaking into a sweet smile that finally made him look his age, dispelling the pained look on his face. In his hand, he clutched a handkerchief meant to wipe his face. Along the edge was a misshapen four-leaf clover.

I seriously messed up!

Inside, Cecilia was freaking out. It was all coming back—how she’d once met Oscar at a high society party, and how afterward, she’d collapsed while foaming at the mouth. Then all the memories of her past life had returned to her with perfect clarity. But what she hadn’t remembered was what had happened to the handkerchief she’d given him.

Which made sense because it happened twelve years ago.

I—I can’t believe I’m going to get busted over this…

A chill ran down her spine. Oscar glared at Cecil silently.

Does he know?! Does he know Cecil and Cecilia are the same person?

“Um…”

“What is your relationship with Cecilia?”

“R-relationship?” she stammered, inwardly a little bit relieved to hear him say that. It didn’t seem like he’d realized yet that Cecil equaled Cecilia. But it was obvious that depending on how she answered, he might very well start to suspect that possibility.

She chose her words very carefully. “Cecilia and I are friends…”

“A duke’s daughter and a baron’s son are friends?”

With that direct hit, she found herself completely stymied. Dukes and barons were just too far apart in prestige. Friendships among aristocrats generally only blossomed between those of similar rank.

And though it was conceivable that daughters of nobility could meet one another at a tea party, Cecil and Cecilia were a boy and a girl. Rationally speaking, it was impossible for them to be friends. In fact, it would have been more believable had she used the excuse that they were secretly together owing to their differences in social standing.

Needless to say, however, it would have been very alarming if the future queen of the country had a lover outside of the crown prince, so there was no way she could have gone with that…

Why are Oscar and I still engaged in the first place anyway?! You don’t need a queen with weak health!

Naturally, queens who would give birth to the next generation of royalty needed to have strong, healthy bodies. That was why she’d continued to feign illness in front of her doting parents and why she’d done everything possible to establish herself as someone with a poor constitution. But her efforts still hadn’t paid off.

Well, thanks to my frail and sickly reputation, I don’t have to go to any more high-society parties, and none of the other nobles suspect a thing despite the fact that I still don’t go to school…

“Are you really her friend?” Oscar asked, his suspicious tone drawing her out of her sea of thoughts and back into reality.

She fought to keep her face neutral. “Umm…”

“Your Highness, it would be more accurate to say that Cecil is my friend,” cut in a very familiar voice from behind.

Cecilia whirled around to see someone she knew well. “Gil!”

“Isn’t that right, Cecil?” Gilbert prompted.

“Oh! Yes!” she confirmed. Gilbert put an arm around Cecil, pulling him in toward him.

“Gilbert?” said Oscar.

“It’s been a while, Your Highness. He—Cecil—is an old friend of mine, and my sister knows him through me,” explained Gilbert.

“Gil, what are you doing here?” asked Cecilia.

“I came to your classroom to see if you wanted to eat lunch together, since we haven’t in a while. Then I heard that the prince invited you to the reception room…”

A classmate must have sneaked a look at the paper Cecil received.

As the son of a duke, Gilbert was obviously entitled to enter the reception room. Once he’d heard about the situation, he’d run over to back his sister up immediately.

Gil! Thank you so much!

Cecilia even felt tears in her eyes.

“I see. So that means Cecil does have a connection to House Sylvie. But then, why are you carrying Cecilia’s handkerchief?” Oscar pressed. Thanks to Gilbert’s acting skills, Oscar seemed to believe that Cecil and Cecilia were acquainted with each another, but he still insisted on answers.

“W-well…,” Cecilia hedged.

“My sister lent it to him. She and Cecil get on well, so they’ve spent some time together,” answered Gilbert.

“But she’s always absent from society parties,” Oscar pointed out.

“As you know, she is in weak health. Though she’s technically enrolled in this academy, she’s rarely well enough to attend. They mainly met up with each other at home,” deflected Gilbert smoothly.

Cecilia’s eyes bugged out as she listened to her brother spouting lies as naturally as he breathed. She could never have done that so deftly.

“I’ve asked to come over and see her many times myself but have never managed. So then why has he seen her?” demanded Oscar.

“Surely that’s because Cecilia doesn’t fully trust Your Highness. Perhaps she even dislikes you,” suggested Gilbert.

Crck… There came the sound of fissures cracking open across stone. Suddenly, Cecilia realized the two men were glaring daggers at each other, completely ignoring her even though she was the topic of conversation.

“Oh? You think Cecilia doesn’t like me?” Oscar hissed in a threatening tone.

“I couldn’t say definitively, but that does seem like the only explanation,” Gilbert said acidly. “And as I’ve insisted to you many times before, she isn’t strong enough physically to be the queen. Won’t you consider just breaking off the engagement already?”

“That’s not something you have the right to object to, Gilbert. The qualities that determine aptitude for becoming queen include intelligence, grace, and breeding. I can’t deem her unfit for the title simply because her body is a little on the weak side,” Oscar shot back.

As invisible sparks crackled between the two of them, she felt her facial muscles twitch involuntarily.

Why are these two getting into a fight? And besides, it feels like they’ve fought about this a million times before…

Unlike Cecilia, who was purportedly too ill to attend them, Gilbert had made many appearances at society gatherings as the next head of House Sylvie. That must have been where they’d come across each other in the past.

While she ruminated on that, the two boys’ verbal sparring match was kicking into high gear.

“Still, it seems to me that physical health is most important, considering the heavy burden of giving birth to and raising the next king,” Gilbert insisted.

“The queen’s role is more than simply bearing children, isn’t it? I’ve thought this for a while, Gilbert, but aren’t you a little overly dependent on her? I suspect you have a sister complex.”

“Better that than someone clinging to a memory that’s over ten years old now. And most importantly, my sister and I are family, while she and Your Highness are strangers. Isn’t it the most ordinary thing in the world for a brother to worry about his sister?”

“Strangers? Cecilia and I are engaged.”

“Don’t you mean engaged for now?”

“Can you really claim you’re family anyway? You’re only adopted in!”

“I regret to inform you that I consider that to be the greatest thing about our relationship. I don’t view my past as a negative in the slightest.”

No longer able to keep pace with their conversation, Cecilia looked from one to the other with a look of dismayed concern on her face.

I guess I’ve learned that these two are unexpectedly close, at the very least.

This was the first time she’d ever seen Gilbert have so much to say, as well as the first time she’d seen Oscar get so emotional. She had no doubt that this was a habitual argument only they could understand that took place in their own little world.

This is a perfect example of friends who are always arguing! Cecilia concluded. She’d always tended not think too deeply about things she didn’t immediately understand.

“I suppose you may be correct. We haven’t seen each other in more than ten years, so of course she could be avoiding me,” Oscar murmured hatefully, giving the handkerchief back to Cecilia.

But just as she reached to take it, Oscar grabbed her wrist and pulled her in close to him.

“Aah!”

“Your Highness!” Gilbert cried, immediately trying to stop him, but Oscar held him at bay.

In a low voice, he growled in Cecilia’s ear. “Cecil.”

“Y-yes?!”

“Have you seen Cecilia recently?”

“I—I guess…,” she admitted, reasoning that she saw herself in the mirror every day. That had to count.

Oscar’s lip curled at her vague affirmation. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Yes?”

“Arrange for me to see her. Any way you can.”

Anyone could recognize that as a clear and obvious order—with a threatening edge.